


The Way It Played Out

by KiaraSayre



Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Superheroes/Superpowers, Gen, Magic Revealed
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-06-02
Updated: 2012-06-02
Packaged: 2017-11-06 15:47:49
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 11,324
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/420569
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/KiaraSayre/pseuds/KiaraSayre
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Merlin, also known as Emrys, also known as Camelot City's local superhero or supervillain depending on who you ask, has spent the last six months trapped in a tree.  That, it seems, is only the least of his problems.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Way It Played Out

**Author's Note:**

> Made for [Big Bang Mixup](http://bigbang-mixup.livejournal.com/) on LJ, with an amazing fanmix and gorgeous artwork that will be edited in once they're public! Thanks to Ari for the beta!

i.

The familiarity of the sound of the car's tires crunching against the gravel of the driveway tugs sharply on something in Merlin's chest, but he does his best to ignore it as the car pulls to a gentle stop. When he gets out, everything is just how he remembers it: the glassy surface of the lake, the comforting nearness of the mountains, the way the smell of pines fills the air. Only the silence is different, with no Gwaine flicking towels at everyone while they tried to unpack, or Morgana insisting in carrying the heavy coolers because _she's not a doll, she can carry something_ , or Arthur -

Well. Arthur tends to be his own one-man soundtrack, a constant commentary of criticism, sarcasm, and bravado. Without it, there's just...quiet.

Which is a plus, or maybe it will be if Merlin tells himself that enough times.

His bags are in the back seat, a duffel bag and a satchel carefully laid over the sword to hide it from view. Merlin puts the duffel over one shoulder, the satchel over the other, and tucks the sword beneath his arm to take everything inside.

It's amazing how transformed the living room of the cabin is without being full of people. The warm, wood-paneled room always felt filled to bursting.

The duffel, satchel, and sword all go on the couch. It isn't worth unpacking, not when he's going to be leaving again so soon, but just being in one place and not moving, no matter how briefly, makes the suffocating everything of the past day seem just a bit more bearable.

Merlin keeps his gaze away from the photos on the walls as he makes his way to the kitchen. Arthur, in a fit of emergency-preparedness-paranoia a few years ago, stocked up on cans of soup and packets of biscuits with disturbingly distant expiration dates. After the day he's had, Merlin doesn't have a lot of pride left, but he has enough to refuse to steal from the cabin.

Eating in it, though, is another story.

Leaving dirty dishes in the sink would be a bit more passive-aggressive than he's willing to be at the moment, so he's just finished washing and rinsing his bowl when he becomes aware that something is off. His guard up, he goes back into the living room, and stops on the threshold.

"Nimue," he says, raising one hand protectively.

Nimue smiles. She's wearing her usual costume, with its deep red bodice and slashed skirt. Merlin has never seen her in a mask; he doesn't think she'd ever wanted her identity hidden.

"Emrys," she replies, her voice easy. "Is this your work? It's very impressive."

Merlin glances at the sword, still untouched on the couch. He keeps his voice flat, trying to contain his reaction. "What are you doing here?"

"I wanted to see if it was true," says Nimue. "Camelot City's greatest defender and greatest menace...exiled. Or should I say blackmailed?"

"Less than twenty-four hours and it's already in the papers," says Merlin, ignoring the sinking feeling in his stomach. "I suppose I should be impressed."

"Camelot City is quick to turn on our kind," says Nimue. "As you now know. I did warn you Arthur would do something like this. Oh, I'm sorry - _Commissioner_ Pendragon."

"You know, I'm surprised. I would've expected you to attack the moment I stepped out of the city," says Merlin. "After all, that's usually what supervillains like you do."

Nimue tuts, her expression almost pitying. "Still clinging to your black-and-white morality, Emrys? Don't you see? It doesn't matter how many times you declare yourself to be on the side of the angels. You have magic, and that's all the excuse they need to call you a devil. This is what happens when we let them get close to us – the second we show that we aren't their toys, they start to fear us, and then they start to hate us, and then they start to kill us."

"And yet, here I am, not dead," says Merlin, watching her. "Arthur - " he hesitates, stumbling over the name, and Nimue's lips curve into a smile and he finishes, "isn't his father."

"Yet," says Nimue.

Merlin has nothing to say to that.

Nimue turns back to the sword, holding one finger just above its surface. "Do you know what this sword is, Emrys?"

"Of course I do," says Merlin. "Seeing as I made it."

Nimue looks back at him, eyebrows raised. "It's a very dangerous piece of magic," she says, her tone impressed.

"Are you here to lecture me about how the Pendragons are terrible people, or did you actually have a reason to come _without_ trying to kill me?"

Nimue smiles again, and the white of her teeth against the red of her lips reminds Merlin of a wound. "You haven't attacked me, either."

Merlin brings his hand up again, warningly. "Don't give me a reason to."

Nimue takes a step towards him. "You've been the only thing standing between me and Camelot City for years now," she says. "As aggravating as it's been, I've seen what you can do – and I know what we can do together. We can make Camelot City a place of peace and magic, as it used to be."

Merlin shakes his head, slowly. "And the people who don't have magic?"

"They have their place," says Nimue. "As long as we have ours, I see no need to concern ourselves with them."

"And the Pendragons?"

Nimue's expression firms, as though backed with steel. "They have no place in a peaceful city. They made that clear when they declared war on magic."

Merlin's well-worn argument – that magic had been trying to kill them, or at least Arthur, for the better part of his life – feels hollow and broken. Instead Merlin says, "I know you too well, Nimue. You don't want peace. You want _revenge_."

Nimue's smile widens, and Merlin knows he's right. "And you don't? I know the feeling of being afraid to reveal yourself, of putting your life on the line in the name of truth and watching your worst fears be proven right."

A laugh bubbledsout of Merlin, half-hysterical. "I want none of this to have happened," he says. "And taking over Camelot City isn't on my list of backups." He raises his hand again. "So you should leave. Now. I may not be there to defend Camelot, but I won't help you take it down."

Nimue's eyes narrow, and she tilts her head with warning. "You should know by now, Emrys, that there is no neutrality in this war. If you aren't with me, you're with them."

"No, I'm fairly sure I'm just against you," says Merlin. "I won't say it again: Get. Out."

Nimue looks at him for a long moment, her expression unchanging, until she says, "Fine. If that's what you want..." She turns and walks to the door, then looks over her shoulder. "Last chance," she says.

"No," says Merlin.

"Oh, well," says Nimue, and she turns, raising her own hand, full of fire.

Merlin is prepared, and Nimue goes flying backwards out the door, her fireball going wide. Merlin extinguishes the fire with a word, leaving a scorch mark on the wall, before turning back towards Nimue with grim determination.

Nimue isn't visible through the open space where the door used to be, and Merlin warily steps outside – to see no sign of her. 

He frowns, and steps further out. Still nothing. He looks around in every direction, magic at the ready, but there is only him and the lake. 

He gets halfway to the car before turning back, and suddenly Nimue is there, her smile turned savage. She says a word, and the sword flies into her hand – she screams with pain even as Merlin calls a fireball of his own, but it's too late – the blade sinks into Merlin's chest.

ii.

The Town Hall of Camelot City was bigger than Merlin had anticipated – really bigger than anything Merlin had ever seen before, a hulking mass of gray stone and Greek statues of what Merlin assumed were variations of Justice, or something. The inside was practically a maze, with room numbers that didn't go in order and sometimes had letters in them, but after almost an hour of dedicated searching, Merlin finally found Office 522a.

Only he found it full of weapons. Why Town Hall had a collection of what looked to be medieval weaponry was beyond him – and was that an actual lance leaned against the shelves?

And was this really supposed to be his office?

There was a small desk shoved into the corner of the office, and, thank goodness, it had a phone. Merlin read Gaius's extension off the back of his hand, where he had written it in hasty pen and subsequently smeared it rather severely, and prayed until Gaius answered.

"Camelot City Minister for Public Health," he said, in a tone that made it clear that he had answered the phone this way for years and was very much looking forward to having a secretary to do it for him.

"The good news is I think I found my office," said Merlin. "The bad news is, I think it's been taken over by the Dark Ages."

There was a staticky puff of breath over the phone, and Merlin couldn't tell if it was a sigh, a laugh, or both. "I thought that might be the case. I'll call Lance and see what he can do about having it moved. In the meantime, put everything in the hallway."

Merlin looked at the collection of very dangerous weapons. "In the hallway," he repeated. Then he replayed the conversation in his head. "You _thought_ this might be the case?"

"Police Commissioner Pendragon led a raid on an enthusiast's house a few weeks ago, but he should've known better than to leave what he confiscated in that office," said Gaius. "If you start taking them to the hallway, I'll send someone along to start moving them to where they're _supposed_ to go."

Merlin leaned on the desk – or tried to, and found himself leaning on a thumbscrew and hurriedly stood up straight. "Right," he said, perhaps with the slightest edge of sarcasm to his voice, "I'll just start stacking swords, then, shall I?"

"You," said Gaius, "are a public health intern, Merlin. This may well be the most exciting thing you do in this job. I suggest you enjoy it."

_Enjoy it_.

Wonderful.

There was a small but neat pile of chainmail and plate armor in the hallway by the time Merlin really hit his stride, only to be rudely interrupted by a spluttering blond as Merlin came out of the office with an armful of particularly spikey weapons.

"What - " said the blond, " - what on _Earth_ are you doing with those maces?"

Merlin glanced down at them. "I think technically they're morningstars," he said.

"Put them down!" said the blond. "Do you have any idea – are you seriously _stealing weapons from the Town Hall_? How monumentally stupid are you?"

"Excuse me," said Merlin, feeling his chest puff up in indignation – but not too much, since those spikes were sharp, "I am _not_ stealing these! I'm trying to clear out my office!"

The blond stared at him in disbelief for a long moment, before bursting out in such enthusiastic laughter that Merlin considered taking offense. "You?" the blond choked out. "Work _here_?"

Scratch that, Merlin was _definitely_ taking offense. He dropped the morningstars on top of the mail and watched the blond jump backwards for the safety of his toes with no small satisfaction. "Yes, I work here," said Merlin. "This happens to be my office, and if these are all yours, I'll thank you to get them out!"

The blond's smile began to fade. "You have no idea who I am, do you?"

Merlin tilted his head. "Other than a prat?"

There was something almost smug about the blond's expression. "Yes, other than that."

"I can't say I particularly care."

The blond stepped forward, crossing his arms. He wasn't exactly small, Merlin couldn't help but notice – he had an athlete's build and bulk. "You can't leave these here."

"Then where am I supposed to put them?"

He was definitely smug now. "I can't say I particularly care."

"You do realize you're talking to the man with an entire medieval arsenal in his office," said Merlin.

"Are you threatening me?" The blond looked Merlin up and down, and raised his eyebrows. "Or trying to, anyway. You look like you're more bite than bark."

"Oh, do I, now."

The blond was definitely enjoying this. "I could take you apart with one blow."

Merlin couldn't fight a grin. "Oh, I could take you apart with less than that."

The blond spread his arms. "Then do your worst."

Merlin punched him – or tried to, until his arm was suddenly behind his back and the blond was saying into his ear, "You should've asked who I was. I'm Police Commissioner Pendragon, but for the rest of this conversation, you can call me 'Officer.'"

Which made the first time Merlin met Arthur also the first time that Merlin was arrested.

It made it all much more awkward when Merlin saved his life two days later.

iii.

All of a sudden there's light, and the air freezing Merlin's lungs as he falls forward. He catches himself on his knees, with the help of a hand against his shoulder, but the world is blurry and spinning.

"What did you _do_ \- "

"He fell out of a tree, I didn't do anything!"

The voices are familiar, but there's something wrong – Merlin can't catch his breath and everything seems distant and faraway, the colors dimmed and darker than usual.

A hand grips his chin and forces him to look up into Morgana's blue gaze. Merlin blinks.

"Morgana?" He pulls away, or tries to, and finds his back against a tree. Gwen and Arthur stand beyond Morgana, and Arthur is holding a sword - _his_ sword.

"Merlin," says Morgana, her firm voice drawing his attention back to her. "Are you all right?"

Merlin can't help but look back at Arthur, who looks just as shocked and discomfited as Merlin is. He doesn't have his handcuffs out, at least.

"I'm – confused," Merlin says. The sense of something being unidentifiably _off_ remains, lingering in the back of his mind and making the hairs on the back of his neck stand up. "What are you doing here?"

Morgana looks over her shoulder at Arthur, who looks away, towards the lake. 

"If you're here to arrest me, you can just say it," says Merlin, his voice sharp.

"We didn't know you were here," says Gwen. "Have you been here this whole time?"

Merlin stares at her. "Whole – how much time?"

"Since you left Camelot City?" Gwen shifts uneasily. "Six months...Merlin, what happened?"

_Six months_. 

"I'm not sure," says Merlin, honestly. Arthur still won't look at him, the bastard. "Where did you get that sword?"

Arthur tells the lake, "It was in the tree. I pulled it out, and..."

"And you sort of came with it," finishes Gwen, looking from Arthur to Merlin with concern. "Was it – is this a..." She twiddles her fingers furtively, as though afraid to say the word. " - sort of thing?"

Merlin is not in a particularly forgiving mood. "Yeah, Gwen, I'd say being trapped in a tree for six months is magic."

Gwen has the decency to look ashamed, but Morgana says, "You've been here the whole time?"

"Was it Nimue?" says Arthur, directing the question to a section of the tree trunk above Merlin's head.

Merlin remembers the deep cold feeling of steel in his chest, of the sensation of something vital spilling out of him and ripped away. "Yeah," he says. "Is she why you're here?"

"When we had to evacuate the city, we agreed to try to meet here, if we could get out," says Gwen. "She was more powerful than she's ever been before – she was always formidable, but nothing like this. The power she had..."

"We should get you inside," says Morgana, putting her hand beneath Merlin's arm and helping him up. The world lurches, unbalanced, and Merlin is reminded of what Nimue took from him.

"It's just luck that we found you," Gwen says, coming up beside Morgana to take Merlin's other arm. They help him towards the cabin, around the tree – which Nimue must've made just to imprison Merlin, he realizes. It was never there before.

"Was the sword just – sticking out of the tree?" Merlin asks.

Gwen nods, and opens the door to the cabin to admit them. "Morgana tried to touch it, but it burned her. I'm guessing that was magic, too."

Merlin looks at Morgana, who holds up her right index finger, which is already blistering. Merlin winces. "I'd put that under cold water," he says, and adds, "Sorry."

"You did that?" says Arthur, his voice cold.

"Arthur," says Gwen, with a note of warning as she helps Merlin sit on the couch.

"No," says Arthur, slamming the door to the cabin shut behind him. He brandishes the sword. "What is this thing? Is it dangerous?"

"Not to you," says Merlin. "And it wasn't meant to be dangerous to anyone else, either."

"So you did make it," says Arthur. He's not hesitating to meet Merlin's eyes now, and Merlin almost wishes he'd look away – clearly the six months have done nothing to abate his anger.

"I made it," Merlin says, trying to suppress his own temper. "I was getting tired of having to save your life all the time."

"So you made a sword that burns people?"

"I made a sword that burns the people who aren't meant to use it," Merlin retorts. "That's why you're fine - I made it for you, you idiot."

Arthur stares at him incredulously. "You made me a sword," he says, his voice flat. "Well, that would have come in really handy, I don't know, _five hundred years ago_. Or, for that matter, if you had actually given it to me!"

"I made you a sword that absorbs magic," snaps Merlin. 

Then he has the satisfaction of seeing Arthur dumbstruck.

"You – what?" says Morgana.

"So he could fight sorcerers," says Merlin. "It seemed like a good idea at the time."

There's another moment of silence as this sinks in.

"But Merlin..." says Gwen. " _You're_ a sorcerer."

"I realize that, thanks," says Merlin, and looks at Arthur. "I was planning to give it to you when I told you that I was a sorcerer, but when it actually happened, it didn't exactly seem like the right moment." If there's an edge of nastiness to his voice when he says the last part, well, it was a long six months in a tree, apparently, and he feels entitled to a bit of nastiness.

Arthur looks down at the blade, his face carefully blank. "So I could use this sword to, what, take away your magic?" he says, his voice deceptively mild.

"No," says Merlin, and the stubborn anger returns to Arthur's eyes.

"You can't take away my magic," Merlin continues, "because Nimue already did."

"But - I thought you said that only certain people could use the sword," says Gwen. Morgana stands up off the couch abruptly, and starts pacing.

"Only certain people can use the sword without getting burned," says Merlin. "I suppose Nimue was determined."

"Could she have taken it to use it as her own?" asks Gwen, looking pensive. "She called down some sort of flying lizard – not a dragon, but - "

"Wyverns, probably," says Merlin. "And I suppose so – the sword wasn't meant to do that, but Nimue knows what she's doing." He frowns. "Although..."

"Although what?" says Arthur, his voice sharp, and Merlin glares at him.

"Nothing," he says, and changes the subject. "What brought you here anyway? If Camelot City is under attack by wyverns, shouldn't you be there?"

"She overpowered us," says Morgana. One arm is tucked across her ribcage, while the other is held to her mouth in thought, or perhaps worry. "The three of us were at the target range - " which Merlin knows is on the edge of the city – "when she attacked. We got out in time. I suppose nobody else did, since – this is where we're supposed to muster, in case of emergency."

"We?" Merlin asks.

"My officers," says Arthur. "The other members of the City Council."

"We saw the smoke coming from City Hall, and heard the evacuation bells," adds Gwen. "The emergency plans say to come here..."

Merlin lists to himself everyone who's probably trapped in City Hall. Not only Uther, who Merlin honestly can't bring himself to care about, but Gaius, Gwaine, Leon, Elyan, and Percival – Gaius had nothing to do with Merlin's...current situation, but even Arthur's other officers used to be his friends.

"And we were going to look for you," Morgana says, and Merlin whips his head up to stare at her.

"It was under consideration," Arthur corrects her icily.

"Gaius is trapped in the city, presumably, and you're the only other person we know who might know how to fight Nimue," Morgana continues, giving Arthur an unrepentant look. "We were hoping...you used to help Camelot City before - "

"You were hoping Emrys would return to the superhero business?" says Merlin, watching Arthur, whose face twitches minutely at the name. Other than that, Arthur keeps his face carefully blank.

"We know that you don't have any reason to help us," Gwen begins, with all the earnestness and kindness and hope that made Merlin like her from the moment they met, and Arthur interrupts.

"Except possibly to prove that you're not a mad, power-hungry sorcerer like the rest of them."

The raw, sharp-edged betrayal and anger rises up in Merlin again, and he forces it down until he thinks he might choke on it.

"You're not helping," Morgana snaps at Arthur.

"I don't want to give him the wrong idea," says Arthur, examining the sword with careful attention. "Just because we need his help doesn't mean I've forgotten the lies." He looks up and meets Merlin's eyes. "But maybe - _maybe_ \- this could be a way to start to prove yourself."

There's the anger again.

"I would've thought that all those times I saved your life as Emrys would've been a good start on proving myself," Merlin says, trying to rein in his feelings.

"And it might've been, if you hadn't lied to my face for years," says Arthur.

"Maybe this isn't the best time for this argument," says Gwen, loudly.

Arthur and Merlin glare at each other for a long moment.

"I'll go back with you," says Merlin. "I might be able to help."

"And how are you going to do that without your magic?"

Morgana drops her face into her hand. "Arthur, please stop talking. You're not helping."

"Because," says Merlin, "the sword should still work. If you can get Nimue with it, it should absorb her magic."

"And what about yours?" says Arthur.

"Nimue used her magic to take mine. If you take her magic out of the picture, I should get mine back."

Arthur tips his head back with a tight smile that looked more like a grimace. "And if that's unacceptable?"

Merlin looks at him steadily. "Then you have a decision to make about what's unacceptable."

iv.

"And, Merlin, don't forget to pick up my dry-cleaning," said Arthur, with a smile that bordered on sadism. "And bring it in separately from the coffee, you know how clumsy you are and I don't want to have to dry-clean everything twice."

Merlin paused in the door of Arthur's office, and turned around to poke his head back in. "Anything else, your highness?"

"No, I think that should do it," said Arthur blandly, and Merlin rolled his eyes.

Being Arthur's assistant – or rather, dogsbody, whipping boy, and secret sorcerer bodyguard – was not quite as bad as Merlin had feared. He was several months into the job, and while his time had been split more or less evenly between terrifying life-threatening situations and paperwork, Arthur himself was proving to be less of an ass than Merlin had originally thought. While this was not particularly difficult, it was still a relief.

Once the dry-cleaning and coffee had been retrieved, Merlin went to Gaius's office. Technically he was working part-time for both Gaius and Arthur; realistically, he tried to carve out time for Gaius when he could, but the vast majority of his time was working in the Police Department instead of the Office for Public Health.

Although this particular visit was not work-related.

"It appears to be one of those scarves you're so inexplicably fond of," said Gaius, when Merlin put the scarf on his desk.

"Yes," said Merlin, and couldn't keep himself from double-checking that the door was not only closed, but locked. "But this scarf is _special_."

Gaius looked at the scarf with clear skepticism, and carefully stroked it with one finger. "It is certainly very soft," he said.

Merlin leaned closer over Gaius's desk and lowered his voice. "I put a spell on it," he said, "so that when I'm wearing it over my face, nobody can recognize me."

Gaius stared at him. "Merlin - "

"Camelot City has a lot of supervillains - "

"Masked vigilantes with grudges and a predilection for violence, yes, it would be difficult for me _not_ to notice," said Gaius.

" - but they don't have any _superheroes_ ," Merlin finished. "What if that was me? If I could show them, publicly, that magic wasn't so bad - "

" _Merlin_ \- "

"I can help people, Gaius! I can make a difference and actually show people what I'm doing!"

Gaius sighed, and pinched the bridge of his nose. "I think you're being excessively optimistic. When they see you, they're only going to see another costumed sorcerer, and they're going to react accordingly."

"But if I'm helping them - "

"You might not get the chance to help anyone if you get yourself shot or arrested before you have the chance," said Gaius sharply. "And I highly doubt _that_ is what you want."

Merlin didn't have to say anything to that. There was only one sentence for sorcery – death.

"And besides," added Gaius, "you're helping people now."

"And nobody knows that I'm doing it," said Merlin.

"You know," said Gaius. "Arthur would be dead several times over if it weren't for you. You should be proud of that."

Merlin threw himself into one of the chairs in front of Gaius's desk. "I am," he said. "No, I am, it's just – right now I'm helping Arthur, but what if I could help other people like me? Show them that they're not alone, that not everyone with magic is some megalomaniac with a penchant for summoning giant dinosaurs to destroy the city."

Gaius leaned forward against his desk. "One day," he said, his voice very serious, "when Arthur is in a position to change things, he will look back and he will think of all the times that magic did not kill him. One day he will be ready to hear that it was magic, in fact, that saved his life. And on that day, you'll help everyone like you more than you can imagine."

Merlin knew he was acting like a sullen child, but he couldn't help it. "And until then?"

"Until then," said Gaius, "you help Arthur."

Merlin thought about this for a moment. "Unless I kill him first."

"Unless you kill him first," Gaius agreed. Then he picked up a stack of paperwork from his desk. "Now could you take this to Morgana? She should be expecting it."

Merlin pulled himself out of the chair, stuck the scarf and the papers in his bag, and went back to work.

Morgana was on the opposite side of City Hall from Gaius, but the walk was worth it. Councilwoman Morgana le Fay was one of Merlin's favorite people in Camelot City, if only for the way she constantly gave the Mayor and Police Commissioner Pendragons hell. And Gwen was her assistant, and Gwen was one of Merlin's other favorite people in Camelot City.

Unfortunately for Merlin, Arthur was in her office when he arrived.

"Ah, Merlin, _there_ you are," said Arthur, his head half tipped back to see the door from his seat at the small table in Morgana's office. "I thought Gaius might have stolen you."

"He can't steal me, I work for him too," said Merlin, rolling his eyes. "Morgana, Gaius wanted me to give you these."

" _Thank_ you, Merlin," said Morgana, giving Arthur a pointed look. "I greatly appreciate your help in this matter."

"Oh, Merlin," said Arthur, watching Morgana for her reaction, "could you be a _dear_ and inventory the Kevlar vests in the armory? Thanks _ever_ so much."

Morgana rolled her eyes, and frankly, so did Merlin.

As he walked towards the armory, he consoled himself that if Arthur had any idea how many times Merlin had saved his life in the past few months, he would...well, he probably wouldn't act all that differently, except possibly be an even bigger ass about it.

Politicians.

v.

As they step out of the cabin to head back to Camelot City, Morgana turns to Arthur and Merlin.

"You two," she tells them, "need to deal with whatever you need to deal with. Gwen and I will take my car. You two can take Arthur's."

"But - " says Merlin.

"Morgana - " says Arthur.

"Have a fun road trip, boys, we'll see you in the city," she says, and goes to her car.

Merlin turns to Gwen, who is edging past him out the door, and she gives him a she-has-a-point shrug and abandons them as well.

Arthur stares after them, wearing his I-am-a-stoic-officer-of-the-law-and-I-will-survive-this face, and then says to Merlin, without turning to look at him, "Get in the car, then."

Merlin bristles at taking the order, but his car apparently disappeared in the past six months – Nimue probably stole that along with his magic, which is just typical for Merlin's life. Maybe when he returns to his apartment he'll find she took his cat as well.

Without any other choices presenting themselves, he gets in the car.

The cabin, Merlin knows, is about an hour outside of the city from the main road. Even getting to the main road feels infinitely longer than that, as Merlin stares out the passenger-side window and Arthur checks his rearview in what is no doubt an increasingly passive-aggressive fashion.

Arthur is the one to break the silence, after three minutes that feel like three millennia.

"You don't get to be angry, you know."

Merlin glares at some passing trees. "I beg your pardon?"

"You were the one who lied to me – for _years_ , I might add," says Arthur, and when Merlin glances over, his fingers are white on the wheel.

"Yes, and then you gave me one day to leave Camelot City or you'd have me killed."

" _Arrested_ ," says Arthur, as if there's a difference.

"Oh," says Merlin, "I'm sorry, _arrested_ , so that I could spend some quality time in prison before my execution. I can see how you'd want me to be nice and specific about that bit."

"You have magic and you lied to me about it!"

" _Had_ magic and did I mention the part about execution?"

"You still lied!"

"You would have had me executed!"

Arthur scoffs. "Evidently not, or you would be dead right now."

"So instead you banished me."

"Banished?" Arthur repeats. "Don't you think that's a bit overdramatic?"

"Not under the circumstances, no," says Merlin, and then, because he knows it will irritate Arthur, "It was like something out of the Lion King – 'leave this place, and never return!'"

This time it's Arthur's turn to give Merlin a withering look. "I sound nothing like that."

"You keep telling yourself that," says Merlin. "And do you have any idea how many times my magic saved your life?"

"Looking back, I can give you an estimate on how many times it endangered it."

Merlin ignores him. "A lot of them you never even knew about. That time with Sophia - "

"Sophia?" repeats Arthur, incredulously.

"She was a fairy and she tried to drown you," says Merlin. "And Valiant, that bounty hunter? Did you think his snake tattoos just _decided_ to come to life when everyone could see them?"

"So you nearly got me poisoned by evil magical snakes," says Arthur. "Yes, I can see entirely why I should trust you now."

Merlin begins ticking them off on his fingers. "The afanc, the griffin, trolls, undead skeletons, the dragon - "

" _I_ slayed the dragon," Arthur interrupts.

"That's what I let you think," says Merlin, but since he was the one to set Kilgarrah free in the first place, he stops there. "That isn't even starting on how many times I saved your life as Emrys."

"How is listing off things you've hidden from me supposed to make me trust you more?" demands Arthur. "And for that matter, if you were saving my life so often, why didn't it ever occur to you to _just tell me_?"

"Oh, and when did you want me to do that, pray tell? After my first day in Camelot City, when I saw your father deny an appeal of a sorcerer's arrest? In between picking up your dry cleaning and polishing your nameplate? After the twenty thousandth time you told me how much you hate magic? Why should I have expected any differently?"

"Because you're _you_!" shouts Arthur, and then seems to realize that he's shouting. He visibly reins in his temper, his grip on the steering wheel tightening once more. Merlin looks at him for a long moment, and sees a muscle jump in his jaw as he gets a grip on himself. Then Arthur says, "I trusted you, Merlin."

Merlin takes this in, and then says, "And I didn't want to die."

Arthur keeps his eyes on the road ahead. "You really thought I would turn you over to be executed?"

"Well," says Merlin, his voice tight, "seeing as you're the Police Commissioner, son of the Mayor, more devoted to duty than anyone else I've ever met – your duty being, in this case, arresting sorcerers – and you've consistently talked about how much you hate magic and everyone who practices it, yes, I have to say I did."

Now Arthur's thumb is twitching against the wheel. Merlin's driven with Arthur before, and usually the thumb only starts going around half an hour into stop-and-go traffic or when he sees someone fail to signal a turn. It is not a good sign. "So," says Arthur slowly, "you didn't trust me."

"I trusted you with my life, more than once," says Merlin, but there's no heat in his voice. "And I think if it had been only my life, I wouldn't have hesitated."

"So Gaius knew."

"I didn't say that," says Merlin quickly, and Arthur shoots him a quick, dirty look. "Well, I didn't. It was – your opinion of me, I suppose. Not to mention if you had me arrested there would be nobody to keep pulling you out of all the messes you got yourself into."

Arthur's voice is ice cold when he says, "Don't you dare pretend you lied to protect me."

Merlin looks back out his window, trying not to sulk. "I didn't want you to look at me the way you looked at me when you found out. Like I'd stabbed you in the back."

"Well, you did," says Arthur, in a tone that allows no argument. Merlin rolls his eyes, and Arthur turns to glance into the back seat. "That sword," he says.

"What about it?"

"Did you really make it for me?"

Merlin shrugs. "'Make' might be an exaggeration. I'm not a blacksmith, obviously."

"Where on Earth did you find a sword?" asks Arthur, and after a moment's thought he adds, "And why did you pick a sword?"

"The spell is old and it was made for a sword," says Merlin. "And since my office had an entire wall covered in medieval weaponry, I figured...why not?"

Arthur closes his eyes briefly. "You stole one of the swords from lockup?"

"It sat in my office gathering dust for years, don't pretend anyone would've missed it," says Merlin. "And I thought – well, it was after the Questing Beast attacked you, and I thought there was a chance that – that I wouldn't be around to protect you much longer. That's when I got the idea, but I didn't find the right spell for a few years. I thought you might need a way to protect yourself from magic if I wasn't there to do it for you. And then once it was done, I kept waiting for the right time." He was quiet for a moment. "I guess I waited too long."

Arthur snorts outright. "That's one way of saying it." He looks at Merlin, then back at the road with determination as he says, "What if you didn't get it back. Your magic."

Merlin can feel a strange stillness come over him, at once cautious and furious. "Don't you dare."

"I only asked - "

"I know what you asked and I know what you actually meant and if you don't give me my magic back, or take it away again once Nimue's dealt with, I will make sure you regret it for the rest of your life in whatever way I can."

After a moment Arthur says, "Which wouldn't be much if you don't have any magic."

"Don't," says Merlin, fixing Arthur with the coldest look he could. "Don't even joke about it. I thought when I made the sword that I would give you a choice, and if I showed you I trusted you then you would trust me back - "

"Well, we've seen how that - "

" - but I'm living without it now and I don't know how you do it. My magic isn't just a thing, it's a part of me – it's who I am."

"It can't be your entire existence," says Arthur.

"You don't understand," says Merlin, dismissive. "I don't think you ever could. It would – it would be like you not being your father's son - " He stops, and then says, pensively, "Of course, we're all our father's sons..."

"First of all, that didn't make any sense, and second of all, I think Gwen and Morgana would disagree."

"What?" says Merlin, distracted.

"What?" says Arthur.

Merlin rolls his eyes and goes back to looking out the window. They spend the rest of the ride in silence.

vi.

And thus began Merlin's career as Emrys, who indignantly called himself Camelot City's Defender even as all the papers were calling him Camelot City's Menace.

It took several close calls before Merlin actually had a chance to go into action as Emrys, since the next string of magical villains and/or the unnatural creatures the commanded all attacked when Merlin couldn't quietly leave the room and duck into a phone box. (He was pretty sure that was what he was supposed to do in situations like that.) Luckily, this gave him time to test some new spells on his scarf, and by the time the Black Knight waited outside Town Hall with his flaming sword for Arthur to emerge, Merlin had rigged his scarf to actually change his clothes _for_ him.

So when he ducked into his office while Uther and Arthur were arguing loudly in the hallway about whether or not Arthur could arrest the undead knight. He took the sword that the dragon chained beneath Town Hall had forged for him, and pulled the scarf on over his nose and mouth.

The resulting burst of light left purple-green splotches in Merlin's vision, but when he looked down, his civilian clothes had transformed into skintight spandex.

Better yet, skintight spandex that clearly covered an illusory body with more muscles than Merlin had ever seen in his life. Between that and having the lower half of his face covered, he was fairly certain that nobody would recognize him.

His departure down the fire escape of his office was not very big on dignity, but nobody saw him until he left the alleyway and confronted the Black Knight.

The Black Knight's siege of Town Hall was already a popular news item, even before a new masked menace made a first appearance. This meant that every minute of Emrys's first appearance, every excruciating moment of terrible swordplay (on Merlin's part) and painful-looking cuts (also on Merlin's part – the receiving end, anyway) was caught on tape. On the other hand, this meant that Emrys's eventual winning blow – which was _not_ just a lucky shot, but a very deliberate and well-thought-out attack that he was nevertheless shocked to see work – was also caught on tape.

So of course the headlines the next morning, instead of reading "New Masked Vigilante Saves Commissioner's Life," read "Commissioner Caught In Crossfire: Villainous Tussle Over Pendragon."

"This is so unfair," said Merlin, dropping the newspaper onto Gaius's desk. "I save his life, and instead of getting thanked, I get implicated in some sort of supervillain power-play."

"If you're in this for thanks, Merlin, I think you'll find very little," said Gaius, sweeping the paper into the dustbin by his desk. "Would you like me to say 'I told you so' now, or would you like me to wait until your ego is better capable of handling it?"

Merlin sighed, and dropped into the chair in front of Gaius's desk. "Emrys is on their side. Can't they see that?"

"No," said Gaius, although his gaze was not unsympathetic. It just wasn't particularly sympathetic, either. "And they most likely won't. I'm not saying that you shouldn't help people in whatever form that may be, Merlin, but you could try a bit of discretion."

Merlin cracked a smile. "Where's the fun in that?"

The best part about being Emrys, though, was that nothing seemed to irritate Arthur more than coming to a crime scene and seeing the culprit tied up and waiting courtesy of Camelot City's friendly neighborhood sorcerer.

"He must have an ulterior motive, some sort of terrible plan for the city," said Arthur, even as Lancelot and Leon loaded Edwin Muirden into the back of a police car. "Maybe he's trying to take out all the competition for the city, so that he can - "

" - have a monopoly on insane magical crime?" finished Merlin, not even bothering to keep the skepticism out of his expression. "I don't think they see the destruction of the city as a competition."

"And what would you know about sorcerers, Merlin?" said Arthur, rolling his eyes. "I've been tracking down sorcerers as long as I've been a police officer. I know how they think."

Merlin thought back to all the times Arthur had expressed surprise with the way Merlin's brain worked, which often involved the phrase "miracle that it works at all." "I'm sure you do," he said.

"He's up to no good, I can tell you that much," said Arthur. "Have you noticed that he hasn't said a word, ever since he made his first appearance?"

That, at least, gave Merlin pause. He'd been doing that deliberately, since he wasn't sure if his spells against recognition applied to his voice, but he hadn't thought anyone would notice. "He hasn't?" 

"I wonder if he even can speak," said Arthur, frowning in thought. "Most of them would've at least announced their names by now."

"Maybe he just doesn't have much to say. Strong and silent, sort of thing," said Merlin.

Arthur gave Merlin a sideways look. "You don't need to sound so admiring."

"Of course not," said Merlin. "I'll just get you that arrest form, shall I?"

He made sure that the next time Emrys appeared, he announced himself in a deep, husky voice that would've made Christian Bale proud.

vii.

"The situation inside of Town Hall is unclear, but we can confirm that the Mayor and several members of his staff were inside when Nimue took hostages," says the newscaster over the radio. "The whereabouts of several top Camelot City officials, including Mayor Pendragon's son and adopted daughter, Police Commissioner Arthur Pendragon and Councilwoman Morgana le Fay, are still unknown. Roads into and out of the city have been blocked by the creatures, and it is unclear how long - "

Arthur reaches forward and turns off the car radio. "I suppose we'll be taking the tunnels into the city, then," he says, the first thing he's said since the argument. "We'll have to let Gwen and Morgana know."

Merlin reaches for his phone, which he usually keeps in his pocket, but it's gone. "My phone's gone – Nimue must've taken it. Along with my car, my bags, and my magic. Wonderful."

Arthur pulls his out and passes it over, keeping his eyes on the road. "Tell them to meet us at the western entrance," he says. "We can go straight to Town Hall from there." He glances over at Merlin. "I don't suppose you have a plan."

"Why would I have a plan?" says Merlin, focusing on his texting.

"You usually do, apparently."

"I usually also have magic."

Arthur tilts his head, conceding the point. "Of course, if you don't have a plan then we're all probably walking into an ambush."

"If you can get Nimue with the sword, then you'll cut her power at least in half. That should give us an advantage, especially if it breaks the spell she has on the wyverns."

"Will it?"

"It should," says Merlin. "I think she _is_ using a spell to control them."

Arthur raises an eyebrow. "As opposed to?"

Merlin shrugs noncommittally. "Let's just say that not everything is as easily stolen as magic. I hope. Can you get me to the roof?"

"What?"

"The roof of Town Hall," says Merlin. "I think if I can get up there, there might be something I can do."

"Would you like to elaborate?"

"Not particularly, no."

"I thought we were done keeping secrets," says Arthur, his voice tense.

Merlin's patience snaps. "You can play the wounded card all you want, but when you found out that I had magic, you didn't accept it – or me. I was afraid that if you found out, you would overreact and I would end up dead or arrested or – well, all right, I didn't really think about _exile_ , but you still proved me right. So don't pretend that you're the only one allowed to be angry."

"I didn't say anything about angry, only secrets and whether you were planning on continuing to keep them or whether I could trust you."

"I suppose that depends on whether I can trust you," says Merlin, staring moodily out his window. "Because whether you believe me or not, I'm on your side."

After a moment Arthur says, "You can trust me."

Merlin lets out a breath. "Well," he says, "do you remember when the dragon was attacking the city, how we went to find the last Dragon Lord?"

"Balinor? He's dead," says Arthur.

Merlin's jaw clenches. "Yes," he says through gritted teeth, "but he wasn't. The last, I mean. That would be his son."

"And who's his son?" says Arthur.

Merlin raises his eyebrows and waits for the other shoe to drop.

It takes about six seconds, and then Arthur abruptly pulls them off the road. "You're joking," he says.

"I'm not joking," says Merlin. "I'm the last Dragon Lord."

"The last Dragon Lord killed the last dragon?" says Arthur, incredulity lacing his voice.

"No," says Merlin. "I didn't kill him. I just got him to leave the city alone, and I think I can get him to come back and at least hold off the wyverns for a while."

"You can convince the Great Dragon to fight off the wyverns."

"It's like fighting fire with fire," says Merlin. "If the fire was being breathed by giant lizards."

Arthur gives Merlin a look that is just on the incredulous side of blank, and then hits the gas.

"We're going to have to have a talk about secrets," he says.

That seems rather more forward-thinking than Merlin was expecting, but he covers his surprise by saying, "I would say that we already had one, but I suppose it was more one-sided yelling than an actual discussion."

Arthur's lips thin, and the rest of the drive is silent.

When Arthur first told Merlin about the tunnels into the city, he said they were disguised as sewers. So well disguised, in fact, that they were even used as sewers.

"So they're basically just sewers," Merlin said.

And Arthur said, "Pretty much, yes."

They only had to use them several times before, but Merlin is not exactly thrilled at the prospect of using them again. Arthur pulls in to the parking lot of one of Camelot's wooded park areas, and shuts the car off – the hike to the sewer entrance is only about five minutes, but it's the ten minutes in the sewers after that that Merlin's worried about. They promise to be unpleasant. And fragrant.

"I don't suppose you have a cover for this thing," Arthur says, pulling the sword out of the backseat.

"I think it's called a 'sheath', and no," says Merlin, letting the car door slam just to see Arthur's wince.

"Well, not all of us can be experts in medieval weaponry," says Arthur.

Morgana and Gwen pull up soon after, and they begin their walk in silence.

Merlin keeps his eyes on the trail in front of him with great determination, but out of the corner of his gaze he can see Morgana and Gwen having an entire lengthy conversation without saying a word. Gwen raises one eyebrow and lets the other furrow with concern as she tilts her head towards Merlin; Morgana purses her lips in sympathy and then rolls her eyes in Arthur's direction. Gwen nods, then shrugs, and Morgana jerks her chin towards Arthur and makes a face which Merlin _thinks_ is supposed to show anger and instead looks like a particularly bad caricature of a fanged vampire with allergies.

"You realize we can see you, don't you?" says Arthur, and Gwen's expression immediately slips to blank innocence.

"And I hope it makes you think about your life choices," says Morgana, tossing her head with pride and picking up the pace.

Arthur glances back at Merlin, who shares an aggrieved look with him. They both realize at the same moment that they're angry with each other and go back to examining the scenery.

The walk in the tunnels passes equally silently, since nobody wants to breathe enough to actually hold a conversation. Arthur stops by a ladder, holding up a hand to signal a halt. Morgana, being a Councilwoman and not a police officer, nearly walks into him.

"Right," says Arthur. "We don't know what to expect up there. There could be anything, but there are definitely wyverns and wyverns are bad."

"Do you have any other helpful and not-at-all obvious advice for us?" asks Morgana. "Perhaps that we should try to avoid their fire, since it might, in fact, burn?"

"Just follow my lead," says Arthur over Morgana, testing the weight of the sword in his hand. "Does this work on everything magical?"

"You mean, does it work on wyverns?" says Merlin, thinking. "They're creatures of magic, so I would assume so."

Arthur brings the blade up to inspect it, and Merlin can see his reflection in the steel. "Good."

The ladder leads to a trapdoor in one of the holding cells that has only ever been used as storage. Which, Merlin supposes, makes sense if it has one of the secret ways out of the city.

The rest of the holding cells are ominously empty – Merlin would have expected Nimue to use their own resources against them and use the holding cells for hostages. Merlin spares a moment to hope that there are no hostages because nobody's been caught.

Nobody speaks as Arthur leads them through the halls. Their path takes them past Merlin's old office, and he pushes down the pang in his chest. 

They find the first wyvern shortly after, coiled in a hallway when they turn the corner. It moves fast, but Arthur is faster, and with one swift and surprisingly accurate arc of the sword, the wyvern explodes into smoke.

Arthur stares at the blade. "You didn't mention that," he says to Merlin.

Merlin stares too. "I didn't know."

The look Arthur gives him is not entirely believing, but Merlin decides that at this point, it's Arthur's problem.

"Right," says Arthur. "We're going to be passing the west stairway soon. When we get there, Merlin, go to the roof and do...whatever it is you're going to do. I'm going to go after Nimue, to see if I can't level the playing field. Morgana and Gwen...I need you to see if you can find the hostages."

Gwen gives him a look that is full of compassion. "We'll find them, Arthur."

Arthur doesn't look convinced, but he says, "I know," in his firm-leader voice.

The lack of wyverns is almost disturbing in and of itself on the way to the stairway, and the group's parting of ways is not a particularly long one.

"Well," says Arthur, and Merlin coughs a bit, wondering if this is going to lead to a moment. Then Arthur motions to the stairwell and says, "Get on with it, then," and Merlin does.

The sun is setting over Camelot City when Merlin reaches the roof, and Merlin stops in his tracks at the head of the stairs, staggered by the weight of everything that has happened in the past twenty-four hours. Or twenty-four hours and six tree-bound months.

He breathes through it, then walks to the edge of the roof and takes in the damage. There is, surprisingly, not a lot of it, though Merlin looks up to see wyverns circling overhead, far too reminiscent of vultures for Merlin's comfort.

He takes a deep breath, and hopes more than he has ever hoped anything that he is still, truly, his father's son. When he shouts, it echoes through the city and beyond, carried on the back of his other magic, the one he had feared lost.

" **Kilgarrah**!"

viii.

It became so easy to put off the revelation. There was always an excuse – that Arthur wasn't ready, that he wouldn't understand, that Merlin couldn't possibly tell him _now_ , not when another sorcerer had just attacked and Arthur was feeling particularly untrusting. And Merlin, well, Merlin was doing well enough, saving Arthur's life on a daily basis. And if sometimes he enjoyed the lying, enjoyed watching Arthur be played as a fool, well, at least he enjoyed it enough to forget the fear.

Because the fear never really went away. Some mornings Merlin felt crushed under it, the knowledge that his life, at any moment, would be forfeit. And he didn't want to burn.

So he put it off as long as he could, but the end of it all was Cornelius Sigan.

Cornelius Sigan, the evil sorcerer buried beneath City Hall and released by that twit of a job-stealer. Merlin did what he had to do, feeling the oily suffocation of Sigan's possession before forcing him back out into the crystal heart that trapped him, but it was only afterwards, when he was trying to catch his breath on the cold flagstones of the courtyard, that he realized he probably should've done it somewhere a little less public.

Or possibly not in his Emrys disguise.

"Don't move," said Arthur, with a gun levelled at Merlin's head. "Don't even think about it."

Merlin didn't. He kept his face still below his scarf while someone else – oh, God, probably Gwaine or Percival – wrenched his arms behind his back and handcuffed him. Only then did Arthur holster his gun, smirking, and step forward.

"Right, then, _sorcerer_ ," and he spat the word out like a curse, "let's see who you _really_ are."

As Arthur tore off Merlin's scarf, all Merlin could think was, _no, I was supposed to have **saved** everyone - _

The triumph didn't so much fade from Arthur's eyes as drop out entirely as the scarf's spell broke. Merlin looked away – he couldn't bear to see Arthur's recognition.

"But that's - " said Elyan from behind Merlin, and Leon, his voice also distant, shushed him.

There was no incredulity in Arthur's voice, only disbelief, when he said, "Merlin?"

Merlin kept his eyes on the stone before Arthur's feet, at least until Arthur grabbed him by the chin and forced him to look up.

"What the hell is this?" Arthur demanded, shaking the scarf in his fist. "What – what are you even _doing_ here?"

Merlin couldn't think past the blinding haze of denial clouding his mind. Through the numbness, he said, "Sigan would've destroyed the city."

"So you dressed up as a sorcerer – you used _magic_ \- Merlin, what were you _thinking_? Even a magical party trick like this could get you executed!"

"Party trick?" Merlin repeated, still caught in an endless cycle of _this couldn't be happening_.

"What does it do?" asked Arthur, his voice ragged with fury. "Does it let you actually use magic, or just fake it? What, did you want to beat the sorcerers at their own game?"

"What?" said Merlin, as the conversation began to catch up with him.

Arthur threw the scarf onto the ground some ways away, and spoke to whoever was holding Merlin – Percival or Gwaine, based on who Merlin had heard earlier. "Burn it," said Arthur, his expression tight. "We'll never speak of this again."

All at once, it hit Merlin. The years of fear, of hiding his magic, the one true thing about himself – and Arthur wasn't even letting him claim it. The desperate fog in his mind cleared in an instant, burnt away by a strange, calm anger.

"This never happened," Arthur told his men over Merlin's head, where he still sat kneeling and handcuffed. "Merlin never used magic, and tomorrow, it won't even exist - "

"That might be difficult," said Merlin. "Seeing as I'm a sorcerer."

"You don't get to talk right now," said Arthur, pointing at Merlin as if jabbing a finger in his face would change his nature. "And no, you aren't. The magic in that – that _thing_ corrupted you - "

"I made it," said Merlin. "To disguise myself while I risked my life to save yours. All of your lives," he added, over one shoulder. "And the city. Because I'm a sorcerer. Quite a powerful one, actually." 

" _Merlin_ ," said Arthur, with familiar exasperation this time backed by anger, "it's twisted your mind - "

Merlin didn't need to speak the words for the spell, so he didn't. The familiar rush of magic washed over him, and the handcuffs dropped away.

Arthur's gun was out and aimed before the echo of metal on stone died out. The clicks of disengaged safeties behind Merlin told him that Arthur wasn't the only one.

Merlin said, "I'm a sorcerer. But that doesn't mean I'm your enemy."

The silence that followed was tense.

Gwaine finally said, "You defeated Sigan?"

Merlin looked up and behind him. Gwaine was the only one who didn't have his weapon drawn. "I used a spell to trap him in the crystal."

"You've been lying," said Arthur. "You've been lying this whole time?"

"I could hardly save your life if I was burnt at the stake, could I?" said Merlin.

"Save - " Arthur's voice broke off with a strangled noise. "You've been a sorcerer under my nose this entire time?"

"It's who I am."

Arthur's eyes were wide, but he brought his gun down and holstered it, staring searchingly at the ground. Then he looked met Merlin's eyes again, and Merlin felt his stomach drop away.

"If I ever," said Arthur, "see you again, you will be arrested and tried for the crime of sorcery."

Merlin could hear Gwaine's sharp intake of breath behind him. 

But Merlin wasn't done being angry.

"You really are your father's son, aren't you," he said. "I've risked my life again and again and you don't even care because all you can see is revenge."

"And who've you been risking your life fighting? Oh, that's right, _sorcerers_ \- "

"Because you try to kill us!"

" _Us_? So you're one of _them_?"

The only breath Merlin could draw was shaky, and his hands were beginning to tremble as he got to his feet. "God help me," he said, "I actually believed in you. I thought you were a good man. I thought you could bring peace to this city and end this unnecessary war - "

"Well, you were wrong!" shouted Arthur.

Merlin said nothing.

Arthur continued, "If you're still in the city tomorrow morning, I will arrest you personally. If you ever step foot in Camelot City again, I will arrest you. If I ever see your treacherous, lying face again, I will arrest you, _am I perfectly clear_?"

Merlin's seething anger was beginning to subside. "Crystal," he said.

Arthur then focused on his officers. "If any of you breathe a word of this to anyone, your careers will be over," he said. He looked at Merlin one last time, and just before he turned to stride away said, "Get out."

Merlin watched him leave the courtyard, and watched the other officers follow him. He catalogued their expressions as they went – Percival ignored him entirely, Leon gave him a look of betrayal, and Elyan at least looked somewhat sympathetic, most likely because of his own father's fate at Mayor Pendragon's hand.

Only Gwaine stayed behind. Once the others were gone, he cleared his throat.

"I suppose that could've gone better," he said.

Merlin looked at him.

"I might've had some suspicions of my own," Gwaine admitted. "Although I admit, I didn't expect them to be proven so...forcefully."

"You never said," said Merlin.

"Neither did you," said Gwaine, and Merlin could hardly argue with that. "What will you do now?"

"Leave," said Merlin, his voice sounding dull even to himself. "I suppose. Maybe go back to Ealdor. Pack all night and then just...go."

Gwaine nodded. "Ealdor's a ways away."

"I'll think of something," said Merlin. The dizzy, lightheaded denial was returning.

"Arthur'll come around eventually," said Gwaine. "He just needs time. And besides - " he flashed a smile – "I know what I'm talking about when I say that moving on isn't the worst thing in the world."

Gwaine clapped a hand onto Merlin's shoulder, and Merlin put his hand over it. "Thank you," said Merlin. "For everything. For keeping my secret, even though it wasn't yours to keep."

"It's us who should be thanking you," said Gwaine. "I think we'll all be thinking back over the next few weeks and realizing how much we owe you."

Merlin shot a poisonous look in the direction of Arthur's departure. "Your lives are about to become a lot more difficult."

"We'll keep him safe for you," Gwaine promised, and Merlin bit back his petty first response.

"I'd better get going," he said instead. The enormity of what had just happened – and how much packing and how many goodbyes he had to get into the next twelve hours – was beginning to sink in.

"Well, then," said Gwaine. "Good luck – and I know you'll be back, eventually."

Merlin wasn't so sure.

ix.

After the battle, Merlin discovers that Arthur's office hasn't changed much since the last time he was here. It's cleaner, with less dust, but less organized as well – Merlin was in charge of the filing, after all, and he had a system.

Merlin steps into the office and places the sword on the desk. His magic is returned. Nimue is defeated. Kilgarrah has come and gone, and taken the wyverns with him. There is, really, no reason for Merlin to wait around and find out of Arthur has miraculously changed his mind – just because Merlin saved his life, _again_ , doesn't mean that Arthur has reconsidered. Especially since all the previous times Merlin saved his neck didn't seem to make a difference in his decision-making the first time around.

But...

Something holds Merlin back. Some last, determined spark of hope leaves him dithering by Arthur's desk until a familiar shadow falls across the far wall.

"You're still here," comes Arthur's voice, unreadable.

Merlin doesn't turn around. He's not sure he can bear anything other than the ambiguity he has right now. "Here I am."

"I thought you'd already gone," says Arthur.

"Apparently not."

"Are you going to do anything other than stating the obvious in this conversation?"

"I suppose that depends on whether I'm about to be arrested," says Merlin, his muscles tensing in an anticipatory fight-or-flight response.

For once, Arthur doesn't sound the least bit exasperated when he says, "I'm not going to arrest you."

Merlin lets himself turn to face Arthur. Arthur, who is splattered with wyvern blood – Merlin really hopes it's blood, anyway – and has a bruise coalescing on his cheekbone. Arthur, who gave Merlin back his magic – and Arthur, whose fault it is that it was taken in the first place.

"Camelot City would be lost if you hadn't helped us," says Arthur. "I haven't...overlooked that." He steps further inside the office and closes the door behind himself, then crosses to his desk. He sits straighter behind it, and puts his hands against the surface, near the sword, as if the solidity can be his armor. "It may come as a surprise to you, but I haven't been able to keep on an assistant since you disappeared unexpectedly six months ago. They all have outlandish claims about me risking their lives or some nonsense, and none of them can make heads nor tails of what you did to my files."

"Are you offering me a job?" asks Merlin.

Arthur looks down at the sword on his desk. "Yes," he says. "I think...I've found that I'm stronger with you by my side."

Merlin follows his gaze to the sword. "Is this job offer conditional?" Arthur looks up at him, frowning, and Merlin says, "Because I won't give up my magic again. I just won't."

Arthur nods, as if it answered a question he hadn't dared to ask, and then says, "The past six months have been – well, we thought there were more sorcerers making trouble than ever before, but there weren't, were there? It's just that you weren't around to stop them. I look back and sometimes I'm amazed that we managed to bungle our way through it." Arthur looks down again. "I can't offer you safety. Only my secrecy, and that of my officers." He clears his throat. "Some of them even missed you, God knows why."

"God knows," Merlin echoes. 

Arthur meets Merlin's eyes. "And someday," he says, "when my father is no longer Mayor, when – when I might be in more of a position to help you...I won't let you down again."

"Well," says Merlin, "my former employer was a bit of a prat. This may be the best offer I get, so..."

"Merlin," says Arthur. Merlin can see a muscle in his jaw work, and then he says, "Please. No more lies."

Merlin can feel a knot rising in his own throat. "I promise."

"Excellent." Arthur picks up the sword and examines it. "In that case, I have three uniforms and a suit at the dry-cleaners that need to be picked up. Oh, and the duty rosters need to be posted, so see to that, as well. And while you're at it, I could use a cup of coffee. You know how I take it."

Merlin has to smile at that. "I suppose nothing ever really changes."

"Two sugars, no cream," says Arthur, and his grin is nothing short of shit-eating. "And do you know how to polish a sword?"


End file.
